At the bug butter table, Martya in a mint-green gown had stopped by to check on the success of the operation, but stayed to help dish out ambrosia. She and Enrique bent together to lift another tub, and the Escobaran laughed heartily at something she said. When Mark and Kareen returned to Beta Colony, they had agreed Martya would take over as business manager, going down to the District to oversee the startup of the operations. Mark suspected she would end up with a controlling share of the company, eventually. No matter. This was only his first essay in entrepreneurship. I can make more . Enrique would bury himself in his development laboratory. He and Martya would both, no doubt, learn a lot, working together. Propinquity . . .
Mark tested the idea on the tip of his tongue, And this is my brother-in-law, Dr. Enrique Borgos . . . Mark moved so as to place the Commodore's back to the table, where Enrique was regarding Martya with open admiration and spilling a lot of ambrosia on his fingers. Gawky young intellectual types were noted for aging well, Kareen had told him. So if one Koudelka had chosen the military, and another the political, and another the economic, it would complete the set for one to select the scientific . . . It wasn't just the general staff Kou looked to own in his old age, it was the world. Charitably, Mark decided to keep this observation to himself.
If he was doing well enough by Winterfair, maybe he'd give Kou and Drou a week's all-expenses-paid trip to the Orb, just to encourage the Commodore's heartening trend toward social liberality. That it would also allow them to travel out to Beta Colony and see Kareen would be an irresistible bribe, he rather thought. . . .
* * *
Ivan stood and watched as Dono finished his cordial conversation with his cousin By. Dono and Olivia then entered the Residence through the wide-flung glass doors from which light spilled onto the stone-paved promenade. Byerly collected a glass of wine from a passing servitor's tray, sipped, and went to lean pensively on the balustrade overlooking the descending garden paths.
Ivan joined him. "Hello, Byerly," he said affably. "Why aren't you in jail?"
By looked around, and smiled. "Why, Ivan. I'm turned Imperial Witness, don't you know. My secret testimony has put dear Richars into cold storage. All is forgiven."
"Dono forgave what you tried?"
"It was Richars's idea, not mine. He's always fancied himself a man of action. It didn't take much encouragement at all to lure him past the point of no return."
Ivan smiled tightly, and took Byerly by the arm. "Let's take a little walk."
"Where to?" asked By uneasily.
"Someplace more private."
The first private place they came to down the path, a stone bench in a bush-shrouded nook, was occupied by a couple. As it happened, the young fellow was a Vorish ensign Ivan knew from Ops HQ. It took him about fifteen captainly seconds to evict the pair. Byerly watched with feigned admiration. "Such a man of authority you're turning into these days, Ivan."
"Sit down, By. And cut the horseshit. If you can."
Smiling, but with watchful eyes, By seated himself comfortably, and crossed his legs. Ivan positioned himself between By and the exit.
"Why are you here , By? Gregor invite you?"
"Dono got me in."
"Good of him. Unbelievably good. I—for example—don't believe it for a second."
By shrugged. "S'true."
"What was really going on the night Dono was jumped?"
"Goodness, Ivan. Your persistence begins to remind me horribly of your short cousin."
"You've lied and you're lying, but I can't tell about what . You make my head hurt. I'm about to share the sensation."
"Now, now . . ." By's eyes glinted in the colored lights, though his face was half shadowed. "It's really quite simple. I told Dono that I was an agent provocateur . Granted, I helped set up the attack. What I neglected to mention—to Richars—was that I'd also engaged a squad of municipal guardsmen to provide a timely interruption. To be followed, in the script, by Dono staggering into Vorsmythe House, very shaken up, in front of half the Council of Counts. A grand public spectacle guaranteed to cinch a substantial sympathy vote."
"You convinced Dono of this?"
"Yes. Fortunately, I was able to offer up the guardsmen as witnesses to my good intentions. Aren't I clever?" By smirked.
"So—I reflect—is Dono. Did he set this up with you, to trip Richars?"
"No. In fact. I meant it to be a surprise, although not quite as much of a surprise as, ah, it turned out. I wished to be certain Dono's response was absolutely convincing. The attack had to actually start—and be witnessed—to incriminate Richars, and eliminate the `I was only joking' defense. It would not have had the proper tone at all if Richars himself had been merely—and provably—the victim of an entrapment by his political rival."
"I'll swear you weren't faking being distraught as hell that night when you caught up with me."
"Oh, I was. A most painful memory. All my beautiful choreography was just ruined. Though, thanks to you and Olivia, the outcome was saved. I should be grateful to you, I suppose. My life would be . . . most uncomfortable right now if those nasty brutal thugs had succeeded."
Just exactly how uncomfortable, By? Ivan paused for a moment, then inquired softly, "Did Gregor order this?"
"Are you having romantic visions of plausible deniability, Ivan? Goodness me. No. I went to some trouble to keep ImpSec out of the affair. This impending wedding made them all so distressingly rigid. They would, boringly, have wanted to arrest the conspirators immediately. Not nearly as politically effective."
If By was lying . . . Ivan didn't want to know. "You play games like that with the big boys, you'd better make damn sure you win, Miles says. Rule One. And there is no Rule Two."
Byerly sighed. "So he pointed out to me."
Ivan hesitated. "Miles talked to you about this?"
"Ten days ago. Has anyone ever explained the meaning of the term d?j? vu to you, Ivan?"
"Reprimanded you, did he?"
"I have my own sources for mere reprimand. It was worse. He . . . he critiqued me." Byerly shuddered, delicately. "From a covert ops standpoint, don't you know. An experience I trust I may never repeat." He sipped his wine.